Ava
I am pacing the room, different from the one assigned to the King I woke up in three days ago.
While he is unhappy with this arrangement, I cannot just sle ep in a bed with a stranger—King or not.
After Patrick and Gloria left the office this morning, Samuel informed Nick and me that we would be leaving for
the royal pack in the morning.
While Nick was excited to go, the mate mark on his neck and mirrored on Samuel no doubt the cause, I couldn’t
fathom leaving.
I wasn’t acc epted in a pack before. There was no way now would be any different. Not in a royal pack, no less. As
Queen. As Luna. As the King’s mate. I wouldn’t put myself through that again. I couldn’t. Why he didn’t just reject
me and get it over with was beyond me. Rejecting him was useless as he had to acc ept, which he refused to do.
That left me with little choice but to run. I would head back to Old Town, get some of my stuff and the money I had
stashed away for an emergency, and hightail it. This certainly classified as an emergency. Once I got far enough, I
would call Nick.
I wasn’t a prisoner, but I suspected the King had someone watching me, so I waited until now, after midnight, to
make my move.
The window opens easily, as I already checked earlier. I climb over the window frame, carefully finding my
footing on the ledge. Once stable, I
shimmy over to a long drainpipe, sure it will hold my weight when I pull on it, and it doesn’t budge. I grab on for
dear life, using the soles of my sneakers for traction as I edge my way down. Luckily, we are only two stories up,
making this reasonably easy.
Once my feet hit the sand of the flower bed, I inhale de eply, adrenaline pumping through my body. I know the
border will have patrols, but I’m sure their focus is on people coming in, not people trying to leave.
I sprint the short distance to the tree line, scanning the area behind me to ensure no one has been alerted.
Running has always been enjoyable for me, even more so now as I hit the edge of the border. The pungent scent
assaults me and then fades as I move further away.
The guilt I feel at leaving Braiden, who, aside from being broody and demanding, has been quite good to me, wells
up, making me momentarily second-guess what I am doing. But all feelings fade into the background as pain shoots
through my entire being, making me falter and trip. The landing is awkward, and I don’t have time to break my fall.
The only thing I can do is twist my body as I hit the ground. My shoulder pops, and pain erupts everywhere, but the
epicenter is apparent. The hand of my good arm reaches up, clawing at my chest where the most intense ache
resides in my heart. So bad that I curl up and cry out.
This is worse than shifting. This is like dying. And as the feeling washes over me, the person I think about is not
my lifelong friend Nick or my shitty adopted parents, Patrick and Gloria. No. The person I think about has grey
eyes and smells like Christmastime.
I must be delusional as I swear the smell intensifies. I also think I hear loud footst eps, running, but I can’t be sure
with the pain shifting my focus. I try to call out, but it comes out as a scream, not the words ‘I am here’ like I
intended.
“Ava!” My name sounds like a growl, and the man of my final moments appears on his knees before me.
“What the fuck, Ava.” His hand engulfs mine, the feeling of relief flooding me. He is real. The sparks are intense.
So intense it wars with the pain, slowly pushing it back.
“More,” I mumble, my eyes locked with Braiden’s, hoping he can understand my request. He must as he lifts me,
sitting on the ground while
he cradles me in his lap.
“My arm,” I mumble.
Braiden’s hands prod my shoulder, though the pain I expect to feel is minimal.
“It’s dislocated, Ava.” Without warning, he pushes in opposite directions, pain shooting out and then subsiding as
he pops it back into place.
“I thought I was going to die,” I whisper, tears welling in my eyes and falling down my face.
“I won’t let you.” His voice is gruff, but the words are sweet. Like always.
He pulls me forward, and I wrap my arms around his neck, tears running down my face as he hugs me.
His hand runs soothingly down my hair, the sobs subsiding as I snuggle my face into his neck. God, he smells so
good. So good that I want to lick him and see if he tastes like gingerbread. Before my mind can stop my mouth, I do
just that. My tongue meets his skin, and sparks erupt, the taste not at all like gingerbread but not disappointing. I
moan out as lust courses through me, and I wonder how I can go from sobbing one minute to practically panting
with need the next. He growls a feral growl, his whole body tense. His hand, which was stroking my hair gently,
delves into it, gripping my neck firmly.
He pulls my head back, grey eyes now black, mine hooded with desire.
“Don’t play games, Ava. You’re not ready for me. You will have only this and then nothing again until you ask
me.” My brows crease in confusion, and then his lips capture mine, sending me to a place where only fire and sin
exist.
I have never been kissed with such possessiveness before. His tongue circles my lips before demanding entry,
which I give willingly. He plunders my mouth, sucking, nipping, and stealing my breath and my senses away.
His hand ke eps my head in place, controlling the kiss and demanding submission. He tastes like an eternity, and
when he pulls back, air rushing into my lungs, I feel like I have returned from a trip. It's like hours have gone by
instead of minutes.
“My King.” Samuel’s voice breaks the moment, and a flush of red that could rival the bottom of the only pair of
Christian Louboutin's I have that I picked up at a sale online.
Braiden's eyes remain fixed on mine, my hands covering my cheeks. I’m in shock. That is what this is. I look over
at Samuel as Nick appears beside him.
“Geezus, Ava, what the fuck were you doing out here?” Nick scolds me as Braiden helps me up, his hand on my
elbow ke eping me steady.
When I stumble, he scoops me into his arms and speed-walks back toward the pack house I thought I had es caped.
The journey feels long, and he remains silent, as do Nick and Samuel, who follow behind us. Pack warriors follow
on either side of us in the shadows, ensuring the King is not harmed. His eyes don’t meet mine. Anger radiates off
him, and his mouth twitches.
“Tell the pack doctor to be ready when we get there,” Braiden tells Samuel, who sprints ahead with Nick.
When we reach the pack house, all the lights are on. It must be only two or three in the morning. Guilt and shame
overcome me, thinking that all these people will see me like this. Will hear what I did. Yet, not one pack member is
seen as we go upstairs.
When we get to the room, the doctor, Dr. Adams, is waiting for us. He is young but thorough, prodding and poking
me until satisfied. He confirms that my shoulder was dislocated but is happy with the job Braiden did to pop it back
in place.
“And the pain?” I ask him, explaining what happened in the forest.
“I had the same pain. It is how I discovered Ava was gone.” Braiden's words surprise me, and I wonder how he
fought through the pain to find me.
“It got better the closer I got to finding Ava,” he says, partly answering my unspoken question. I remember the
relief that coursed through me when he touched me, how the pain subsided.
“It is unusual, probably only happening to one in a million werewolf pairs. But I am not surprised that this is
happening now. You are a King.
And your wolves are unique,” Dr. Adams says, indicating between us. I still wasn’t sure what he was saying. He
must see the confusion on my face as he clarifies.
“Until you complete the mate bond and mark each other, I’m afraid you are stuck together. Close together.”